


That Which We Endure

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, fast food au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 08:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: Akaashi is a long suffering manager at a fast food restaurant. Bokuto is Bokuto, and eventually mounts him.





	That Which We Endure

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this](https://youtu.be/4KIdTPS6LH4?t=35s) and lost my goddamn mind.

"And that's the drive thru. Any questions?" 

He forces the grimace down at the hand that jumps into the air. "Yes, Bokuto-kun?"

"Can we watch the video again?"

Akaashi closes his eyes, and the rest of his new employees laugh. Akaashi has been training high schoolers for a while, and immediately knew, the second he saw this kid walking through the door, he was going to make things more complicated than they had to be. 

"When orientation's over," Akaashi says. "If there's time."

He hurries the group on to the grill in an attempt to regain their attention. 

The training video was in English, from the early nineties, an American 'rap' about how to handle the grill. The vast majority of employees who watch the videos are teenagers, and they will typically slump dramatically in their chairs, trying to make sure no one could possibly think they enjoyed any part of watching something so lame. The only other reaction Akaashi's seen is a sort of dead eyed stare of the middle aged who have accepted their fate. This kid is the first one who actually seemed to enjoy it.

Akaashi's sure it's to get a laugh out of the group, but – maybe not. Bokuto has an unmistakeable air of wildness to him, and it seems utterly sincere. Akaashi's dealt with goofy kids, potheads, slackers, but this Bokuto's wide, intent eyes are a beat apart from that, and slightly intimidating. 

" _When things start to sizzle, you're ready to go!_ " Bokuto raps one the lines from the video in surprisingly fluid English as he takes his turn at the grill, and his coworkers laugh. " _You gotta turn the meat, but don't be slow!_ "

"Good work, Bokuto-kun," Akaashi says mildly, and Bokuto beams.

"Just Bokuto, Akaashi-san!"

Akaashi stares for another beat, then takes the spatula from Bokuto's hand and passes it to the next employee.

Akaashi hates management. He's been working here while attending the local college for the past four years, and it's starting to feel like this will always be his life: the dark, unpleasant back of the restaurant, confiscating phones from unmotivated teenagers, and training a whole new batch of frustratingly clueless ones once the previous group has finally got the hang of it. 

"Alright, we're almost finished, we just have one more... " Akaashi suddenly realizes what he's saying, and sighs heavily. "Training video." 

" _Really_?!" Bokuto gasps, sincere down to his bones.

"Really."

The video is short and simple, another rap, this time about hot liquids. Akaashi usually saves it for the end because it's basically commonsense, and two rap videos in a row are too much for most people to take, but Bokuto has the entire group hyped up and excited by the end of it, talking loudly as they gather their jackets, laughing and upbeat.

" _Hot, hot, hot!_ " They chant from the video, and Bokuto waves over his shoulder – he _winks!!_ "See you Wednesday, boss!!"

Akaashi doesn't respond – startled to his core. Who – _winks_ like that? He is flustered and annoyed, a little rough when he starts collecting the fold up metal chairs from orientation. Talk about unprofessional. Where does someone get off _winking_ at people like that?? Winking at their _boss??_ He doesn't notice the fact that he's blushing until he passes a mirror and sees it splotching across his face.

He's just a stupid teenager. He's just goofing around. This mollifies Akaashi somewhat, until later that night, when entering the new employee information into their system, discovering that Bokuto is 21. With his birth date, closer to 22. This irritates Akaashi even more – _Bokuto_ is an _adult_. Older than Akaashi! Adults don't wink at each other – especially not adults like Bokuto.

The truth is Bokuto is disgustingly good looking. His smile is crooked and wide, his eyes are wide and crinkle with sincerity when he smiles, his hair is wild but effortlessly charming, and Akaashi knows exactly why the teenagers in their group were practically falling over themselves to laugh at his jokes. He's tall, with a sturdy, strong build, and charisma that could fog up a window. All this would be irritating, but possible to ignore – even the wink – if Bokuto was a teenager. 

Akaashi finds himself scowling an hour before Bokuto's first shift. Of course he's twenty minutes late.

" _Soooorry, Akaaaaaashi-san!!_ " Bokuto is shouting before he even makes it into the restaurant, Akaashi can hear it from the parking lot. He barrels through the door, his shirt only half tucked in, apron slung over his shoulder.

"You get one warning," Akaashi says, without looking up from balancing the register. "Next time is a write up."

Bokuto's face falls at his angry tone, and he bows, apologizing again, hands clasped in front of his face, and Akaashi feels bad, briefly.

"Sorry, 'Kaashi-san."

 _'Kaashi_?! Akaashi recoils – he knows it's not bad, honestly, but there's just something in the way Bokuto _said_ it.

"Just get ready for your shift. You're shadowing Lev today."

This is punishment. Lev is ridiculous and unfocused, and irritating to everyone on staff.

Akaashi should've known better, because he's utterly unsurprised to show up thirty minutes later to find both of them laughing over Bokuto's phone.

"You know you're not supposed to have that out," Akaashi says, shortly.

"Akaashi-san!! I found the training video online!!" Bokuto says, utterly shameless, turning his phone for Akaashi to see where, indeed, the video has hundreds of thousands of hits. Akaashi grits his teeth.

"Put the phone away, and get to work. Bokuto, you're – you'll shadow Tsukishima." This is crueler than he should be, literally _no one_ can stand the surly, unpleasant guy they have currently working fries, he never trains any of the newbies, but Akaashi is unreasonably rustled. 

It would be so much easier of Bokuto was ugly, if his eyes weren't so – so ridiculously bright, if he didn't smile as soon as Akaashi walked into the room, no matter how short Akaashi had been with him the hour before, or day before, or week before.

He's sure he's created a pretty terrible impression of himself on Bokuto, until one day he overhears him working the register. 

"... know if Akaashi-san has a girlfriend?" Bokuto asks his coworker, a fifteen year old girl who shrugs. 

"I don't know."

"A boyfriend?"

"Ha! Bokuto-san, really I don't know. He doesn't talk about stuff like that. Why, you interested?" She's obviously teasing but Bokuto smiles. "Really??"

"Yeah! He's like – you know," Bokuto says. "He's like... _you know._ Cute."

"He's so serious though… " 

" _Yeah_ ," Bokuto sighs, sounding unmistakably twitterpated.

Akaashi, safely out of sight in the narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms, is beside himself, unable to move, unable to respond – he's still flustered and on edge at the end of shift, when hot coffee spills on Bokuto's shirt. 

"Shit!" Bokuto says, yanking it over his head, leaving him shirtless. Akaashi stares, just a beat too long. Bokuto goes from panicked to surprised, delighted laughter when he notices.

"Like what you see?" he says, humiliating Akaashi to his core until he realizes Bokuto is playing it up for the room at large, running a hand down his chest, down his – annoyingly defined abs.

"Knock it off," Akaashi says, pleased by the chill in his voice. "There's shirts in the back room, go get changed."

Bokuto does. He winks along the way. Akaashi squeezes the wet rag he's holding hard enough for coffee to go spilling on the floor. 

"You okay, Akaashi-san?" asks Lev, and Akaashi nods shortly, wiping up the spill in jerky motions.

After twenty minutes of Bokuto in the backroom, Akaashi goes to investigate. 

He finds Bokuto, still shirtless, phone out, watching the training video.

"Are you kidding me?" Akaashi asks.

"Akaashi!" Bokuto says, as though somehow surprised to meet up here, of all places. He approaches, and Akaashi panics, putting out his arm – stopping just short of Bokuto's warm, smooth flesh. Bokuto looks from Akaashi's hand to his face, blinking in surprise, before smiling. 

"Put – put your shirt on," Akaashi says, voice significantly weaker.

Bokuto doesn't put his shirt on, and he doesn't say anything, his expression growing curious, almost excited, as he starts leaning in. Slow, terrifyingly slow, like he has all the time in the world, because as much as Akaashi stutters out, "B-Bokuto – " they both know he doesn't have it in him for an actual protest to come out.

He kisses slow, at first, with little, cautious pecks, and as Akaashi does nothing but quiver beneath them, grows bolder, sloppier, pressing both his lips and firm, solid body against Akaashi harder. He tastes like coffee and candy, and when he pulls back, looks shamelessly proud of himself. 

He pulls on his shirt and goes back to work.

Akaashi's knees give out and he slides down to the floor. 

Normally, everything from work fades to nothing in Akaashi's mind as soon as he reaches his college classes, but after work he's still stewing frantically, unable to focus on the lecture. 

He thinks about it on the bus ride home, and while climbing into bed, and wakes up in the middle of the night harder than he's been in months, working his dick until he remembers the cause. He pulls his hand away sharply when he realizes exactly what's happening. Then whines in needy defeat as he goes back to it, working harder, remembering the taste and smell of Bokuto – he comes pathetically fast.

Breakfast is tasteless, bland, mush the next morning on account of his nerves, and he sits in the parking lot of the fast food joint for almost ten full minutes before forcing himself to accept the inevitable. 

He keeps to himself the beginning half of the day, which bites him in the ass in the afternoon, when Bokuto's shift actually begins. 

"Need help closing today?" is the first thing Bokuto says.

" _No_ ," Akaashi practically hisses at him, and of course Bokuto laughs, pleased with this reaction, yanking on his apron and going to his station.

Akaashi should fire him, should've fired him the moment he gave that wink. He's been nothing but bad news, god, he looks fucking amazing in those jeans, he wore them on purpose, the asshole. Akaashi's thoughts are consumed with these conflicting, hateful emotions as he mans the register, struggling valiantly to keep a neutral expression on his face.

"Are you alright?" asks one elderly customer, and they look genuinely concerned. "Do you have a fever? You're all pink."

"Nah, Akaashi-san's just bashful!" Bokuto says as he walks by, and pinches Akaashi's rear. 

Akaashi bites hard on his tongue to keep from yelping loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.

Although terrified of the prospect of being alone with this demon creature, Akaashi knows he needs to put a stop to this. He pulls Bokuto into a back closet.

Bokuto kisses him on the cheek the second the door closes.

Akaashi wipes frantically at his cheek, and makes his voice as unamused and cold as possible.

"What do you think you're doing?" Akaashi says. "This is completely unacceptable. You could get fired for this, I would definitely be fired for this."

"So we don't get caught," Bokuto says, his grin utterly unbothered. 

"I'll – I'll write you up if you keep this up," Akaashi says, but already knows he needs to retreat, reaching behind him for the door knob blindly. "I'm serious."

"Aww, Akaashi-san," Bokuto pouts, looking sincerely heartbroken as Akaashi closes the door. 

Akaashi grinds his teeth, takes a moment to compose himself, then heads back to the front counter. 

Of course it's Bokuto cleaning off the tables at the end of the night, lazily twirling the rag as he goes from one table to the next, doing an absolutely terrible job. Akaashi watches him, glowering as he does, unable to say a word. They're alone now, and who knows how the situation could escalate without any witnesses? He just needs to wait for Bokuto to leave. He'll wash the tables properly on his own.

When this takes longer than he expects, Akaashi decides to wait it out in one of the back offices, the one where Bokuto sat and watched the training video shirtless. 

He knew, somehow, by thinking of that, it would summon Bokuto, that he'd know that that's his moment to attack. He jerks when the door opens, and stares at Bokuto's frame in the doorway. There's a pause, both of them waiting for a protest, an argument from Akaashi, but all he can do is breathe, and feel the anticipation rising in his chest. The lights are off in the lobby, the blinds to the windows are closed.

It's here, and now.

They end up on the desk, Akaashi on his back and both of them, rather ridiculously, pantless, still in their socks. 

"Bokuto," Akaashi warns, through kiss bruised lips. They're not going to fuck. They're not. They're just going to do some fondling, get each other off, get it out of their systems, but Bokuto's fingers don't really seem to be following the plan.

"I just – wanna see something," Bokuto says, lips moving against the impossibly tender skin of Akaashi's inner thigh, making him squirm as he travels up toward a shameful place.

Akaashi can't stand this, feels his jaw quiver and has to cover his face with his arm as Bokuto arrives at his crotch, Akaashi's erection pressing awkwardly against Bokuto's cheek as he continues to lick, nib and fondle Akaashi's thighs.

"You a runner or something?" Bokuto asks, fingers giving a testing squeeze of the muscles there, and Akaashi yelps. It's bizarre to feel someone else touching him there, let alone Bokuto's large, calloused hands. Stroking his thumbs against the tendons and Akaashi bites his cheek to keep from making some weird, strangled noise. It doesn't really work. 

He thinks he's about to get a blow job – his first blow job. But no, Bokuto has bigger interests than that. He found some bottle of cleaner for the equipment, slicks up his fingers and plunges them inside Akaashi without preamble.

" _Ah!!_ " Akaashi yelps in protest, but he hunts out Akaashis prostate with eerie precision, stroking against it in a firm but gentle touch. "He- hey – "

"Hey?" Bokuto mimics, smiling in delight as Akaashi whines, writhing his hips against Bokuto's fingers, encouraging him. Bokuto is ruthless in his prep, leaving Akaashi a little dazed, legs splayed and open as Bokuto carefully pulls on a rubber, then steps into place.

"I was looking forward to this," Bokuto tells him, face flushed pink and smiling shamelessly, like always.

Akaashi is trying to catch his breath enough to respond when Bokuto grips Akaashi's upper thighs, and forces him down onto his dick. The result is a nonsensical howl – god, it feels – so good, better than Akaashi's fingers, better than the one rushed encounter he had at a college party, sticky, smelling of stale booze and vomit. This is incredible, warm and – ffuck, so thick, so _big_ in him, his chest his shaking as he breathes in and out, moaning with each thrust.

" _Akaashi_ ," Bokuto whines. "You sound – amazing." He throws his head back as he plows away. He's getting deeper and deeper, slowly, no rush to impale Akaashi all the way, rocking at an almost lazy pace that would be shallow and unsatisfying if not for the frankly insane size of his cock. As is, Akaashi can only tremble with relief (satisfaction, pleasure) that he's decided to take it slow.

Once he's decided Akaashi had enough of a warm up is when he's in trouble.

"Oh god – oh goo _oddd_ ," Akaashi moans, filling the room with his cries, dragging his fingers down Bokuto's back. Oh fuck, "oh fuck, oh fuck, Bo- Bokutoo – oh _god_." This cock, it's the best thing he's felt, ever, stuffing him so full, so intensely, it's nearly making his eyes water, making him lose his goddamn mind. 

It's a mix of shame and arousal that overwhelms in then, combined with Bokuto's large, lazy hand squeezing at Akaashi's dick and a particularly on point thrust that has him screaming out, coming against his chest, spraying his shirt in dots. 

He's gasping for air as Bokuto finishes himself, laying limp and allowing whatever Bokuto wants with his body. He comes, just before it would start becoming uncomfortable, humping with sloppy instinctiveness in the last few thrusts, contrasting with the lazy pace of before.

"That was good," Bokuto says. He's smiling down at Akaashi, petting his sweaty bangs away from his face. He kisses him, seemingly on impulse, then pulls back and smiles again. "Akaaashi," he says, apparently just to say it. "We should do that again." 

Akaashi throws his arm over his face again, unable to believe it's come to this, this shameful thing, sex at work, on top of a desk, with one of his employees. He imagines himself pushing Bokuto off, proudly grabbing his pants, storming out of the restaurant and to the train station – 

"Akaashi," Bokuto says again, nuzzling his neck, like he's breathing him in, and even the will to pretend to fight is faded to useless nothing. He huffs in surrender, dropping his arms around Bokuto's neck, and when Bokuto travels back to his mouth, returns the kiss somewhat ruefully.

They'll do this again, Akaashi realizes, Bokuto's come slowly dripping from Akaashi's hole. In the office again, maybe, like _idiots_. The idea should be terrible, but in this quiet moment, it's not the worst thing for Akaashi to admit that he's looking forward to it.


End file.
